


Talks at Half Past Two

by Blue_Jay



Series: Remove All the Pieces + Prompts [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fatherly Bobby Singer, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 05, Self-Harm - Mentioned, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 05:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Jay/pseuds/Blue_Jay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby Singer and Dean Winchester sit down to chat while the world is ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talks at Half Past Two

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place some time after the Dark Side of the Moon part of my other two stories in the series. 
> 
> And, kind of OOC because it's touchy-feely ish, but someone requested it, sooo.

Dean looks completely wrecked when Bobby enters the kitchen, staring down at his half-empty whiskey with bloodshot eyes. With a sudden jolt, he remembers walking into a similar thing ten years ago when it was still beer instead of whiskey. And since Sam's probably upstairs again, he figures it's a lot damn worse than a panic attack.

He pulls off his coat, slipping it onto one of the hooks by the door. For the past few years the boys have had spare keys and he hadn't known they were coming over. For at least Sam not to have called, something serious went down. Dean greets him with a simple "Hey, Bobby."

"Hey," he says right back and pulls up a chair across from him. "You, Sam, Cas, or the rest of the world?"

The gold color of the whiskey catches the dull light. Even Dean's hair is a mess and considering how short it is, that ain't easy. "You know Roy and Walt?"

"Those sorry excuses for hunters?" he answers. "Yeah, I know 'em."

With a sigh, Dean explains, "They tracked us down to our motel room because apparently half the fucking community is hunting my brother. Shot him. Decided it would suck for me to be on their trail for the rest of their lives, so they shot me too. And we ended up in Heaven. Then came back to life. And I'm a fucking idiot, but what else is new?"

Bobby might not be for hunting humans, but if Dean wants to go after those two, he sure won't complain about getting their location down himself. Everyone seems under the impression that messing with one Winchester boy is just messing with the other; more people need to take him into account, too. He asks, "Who brought you back? Cas?"

"Michael. Lucifer for Sam, again." He runs his hand over his face. Bobby picks up on the "again," but figures this isn't the time to ask. "Fuck it. I just - I have fucking idea what I'm doing."

After years of perfecting his alcohol consumption, he knows when it's time to break out the hard stuff. He stands and pours himself his own whiskey too. "Talk, boy," he says. "What did you two idjits do this time?" Like Dean, he isn't all for the touchy-feely crap but he can step up when the other two can't. S'not like John ever did it and someone ought to. 

"The God Squad fucked us over again to piss me off," he answers as Bobby sits back down. "Sammy's not doing so hot right now and we went up to fucking Heaven but those assholes can't leave a thing alone and filled his Heaven - it's personalized by the way, Sam and I apparently share one, long story, let's just say God's completely okay with incest - with bad memories. I didn't realize it, just thought all his good ones - anyway, we came here because we were only like two hours away and he had a panic attack so bad he forgot how to breathe. Calming him down meant putting him to sleep."

He can't say it without getting awkward himself and Dean shutting himself down, but he's damn relieved they didn't hole up in a motel room tonight. He's also trying hard to think about God of all things being okay with...well, these two. "I'm taking it you overreacted?" Dean nods. "I'm getting the feeling that ain't what caused the attack." 

Dean explains it to him, clearer than he expected when the boy's halfway to tipsy for the first time in years - that anyone with eyes can see Sam's a little too into keeping clean and it turns out years ago he freaked at some Thanksgiving that came up as a memory; that he wasn't thinking straight and got pissed and purposely tried to hurt his little brother for it but fucked up and now he can't fix it; that Sam's basically convinced that's his fault when there's no way it can be - and Bobby can't help place blame on John for fucking up his kids this bad. Sure, demons and angels have done a number on these two but those self-deprecation issues came from much younger than any of that.

Still, he won't say that. Instead he tells him, "We always knew there was something wrong with the kid, Dean. You two gotta stop blaming yourselves for it."

"No, but, Bobby, you don't get it," Dean answers. "I - Well, basically, before the Heaven bullshit, I saw him with his shirt off the other day pretty much for the first time since before the Apocalypse started and his left arm is destroyed."

"Destroyed."

"Knife marks. Looks straight up mutilated." The boy finishes the rest of his glass; Bobby pours him another one before he can ask. "He said the wraith in the hospital did it, but I don't know. The scars are too old."

"So you think he did it to himself?" He nods and Bobby feels a little queasy. "Jesus."

With a sigh, he says, "I just can't trust him anymore. Not about the demon blood or - I'm still pissed but that's not the point. All sides of this fucking death match are after him including other hunter who're supposed to be the good guys. I shouldn't be worried about him going after himself too."

Normally he'd try to tell the kid it's not his responsibility to watch after his brother twenty-four-seven, but the words get caught in his throat. Hunting's already got the rep of being a suicidal man's business, but Bobby knows a bunch who'll swear up and down they're pretty okay with living. Winchesters, on the other hand, can't do anything half way. Before he can say anything, Dean suddenly continues, "You know, there was time I was a kid, couldn't have even been eighteen and Sammy decided it would be a great idea to just go for a run. Shoes were new - cheap, right? Tore his feet to shreds, bad enough that I had to carry him home. He still couldn't walk a week later and Dad came home. I thought he'd be - I don't know - because Sam got hurt, but he wasn't. I didn't really get it but I think he did. Makes sense now, you know? All those times he told me to look after my brother even when Sam was like seventeen."

For the love of God, this better not be a headache. "Got any idea what you want to do about it?" Dean says he doesn't. Bobby never really looked into all that psychology mumbo jumbo, but he remembers reading somewhere "internalizing depression" can lead to bouts of anger. And Sam's plenty angry. "I'll keep an eye on the kid too, whenever you end up here."

Dean nods, clearly exhausted. Bobby figures he would be too, if he was shot and brought back to life in a sleezy motel room by two hunters who probably won't know this place for much longer. "I'm just out of ideas," Dean says. "It's like every time it seems like we're making him better, something comes along and fucks it up. Like, fucking Ruby goes and plays mind games on him so he can start the Apocalypse and he starts going back to normal-ish if you don't count that one day and then Famine happened and we starting working out again and now those goddamn angels won't -"

He reaches over, puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I've already got one of you panicking," he says. "Don't got room for two."

Though it takes a solid moment, he does end up calming down. "I shouldn't even be laying this on you."

"That's what I'm here for." Fucking John Winchester and that stow your feelings crap. "When do you think he's going to wake up?"

Shrugging, Dean answers, "Hopefully not for a while. Lucifer gets inside his head so he isn't exactly sleeping either."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"More than he has."

"That ain't exactly reassuring."

Dean groans. "I'm fine," he says. "Or sane, anyway. I just don't know what to do anymore. This isn't the sort of thing we can just talk about. Sam might be into all that crap but if I bring this up he'll dodge the subject."

Though Bobby doesn't know how reassuring this'll be, he still says, "You managed to get that panic attack to stop. That's gotta count for something."

That isn't enough, though. Dean digs the heels of his palms into his eyes like he's trying not to cry. "I'm just so fucking tired of this shit. I don't know what to do."

Bobby pours himself another drink and pretends he doesn't see the way his boy's shoulders shake.

(a week later he gives up and wants to say yes to michael and bobby just wants to hit him because goddammit, he's brother's right here and not going anywhere)

(the two idjits need to stop trying to kill him)

**Author's Note:**

> Also, sort of random, but my favorite unappreciated Bobby phrase on the entire show is "Well, I'll be a squirrel in a skirt."


End file.
